Lessons
by Linen Tartaruga
Summary: Now that the two most significant people in his life since he’d been eleven had found happiness he should be happy for them...
1. Chapter 1: Understanding

**Title: Lessons**

**Summary: **_Now that the two most significant people in his life since he'd been eleven had found happiness he should be happy for them. _Three years after he's restored his brother's body, one year after he's returned from the other side of The Gate, Edward no longer has a solid goal to focus on.****

**Pairings: **Ed/Several OC's and Russell Tringham, Roy/Al, eventual Roy/Ed/Al

**Rating: **M/R

**Warnings: **Yaoi, heavy lime, ANGST, troubled!Ed, somewhat disturbing imagery, incest, spoilers for the series and the movie.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned FMA, then this wouldn't be a fanfic, now would it?

**Notes: **No, I haven't actually seen the movie yet, so all I know about it are what I've read in a few translations of a NewType issue, so I apologize ahead of time for any unintentional discrepancies. I also apologize for the sheer amount of ANGST; I should probably get that checked out one of these days.

* * *

**Chapter One: Understanding**

_Callused hands stroked gently down his chest, curiously exploring the curves of muscle, the slash of scars. He wasn't surprised by the gentleness; no, why would he be? After all, it was always like this. He always took such care with him -- caressing him, holding him, making him feel like he was cherished, even if he knew he had no right to be._

_Those hands drifted lower, tracing the line of blonde hair down from his navel to-- A moan tore itself from his throat as he arched off the bed, and when he forced his eyes open, he wasn't surprised to see that the dark mop of hair had turned a dusty blonde, bronze eyes that reminded him of his mother's smiling down at him with such love and innocence; an expression that didn't belong anywhere near what those hands were doing to him. But no matter how hard he tried to speak, to tell him to stop because this wasn't right, all that came out was an unintelligible moan and those hands just moved faster._

Ed awoke quite abruptly, though his entire body felt as if he'd been sleeping in a bowl of particularly thick pudding when he tried to move. This attempt also brought his attention to the fact that he was slick with sweat and his right hand was clamped rather enticingly around the bulge in his boxers and Ed was suddenly very glad about the fact that he'd opted to stay an extra night in the inn instead of taking the late train back to Central. There was only a moment's thought to just finish the job -- after all, it wasn't as if the automail could feelso he _could _pretend it was someone else's hand -- but it was pushed aside quicker than it took the blonde to untangle himself from the sheets. There were only three ways Ed knew of to take care of this problem. The first two he tended to avoid like the plague, because he usually ended up feeling sick and disgusted with himself afterwards; besides that one of them required at least one other person present, and Ed didn't know anyone in this town (one of the reasons he'd requested this mission specifically), nor was he about to proposition a stranger. So that left him with just one option, and he quickly padded over to the small bathroom.

He shivered under the cold spray of the shower, letting the frigid water douse the flames spreading out from his groin that begged to devour him. Ed focused on that feeling, on the biting cold of the water and the slight chattering of his teeth, driving the memory of the dream from his mind. He was getting better at it, and he wasn't sure what he felt about that realization. That thought, too, was left to swirl down the drain with the memory of the dream and the extinguished fire, and it wasn't until Ed was able to completely shift his mind back to thinking of what he needed to accomplish that day that he finally reached out and turned the temperature control to the other extreme, the hot water nearly scalding the blonde's skin as he lathered up his hair with shampoo uncaringly.

The first order of business was to get breakfast, and Ed lugged his suitcase down to the little diner that also served as the inn's lobby, picking out his usual table in the corner and setting the suitcase down in the other chair to ward off any possible visitors -- the diner tended to get busy and seating could be scarce. By this point, Ed had eaten there enough times that the waitress didn't even have to ask and ten minutes after he sat down, the middle-aged waitress placed a mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs with a slab of ham on the side in front of him. The blonde nodded his head in thanks and wasn't really all that surprised when she tried to engage him in conversation.

"Checking out finally, hm?" the woman asked, spying the suitcase. "Guess you finished that case you were working on?"

"Yeah…"

"Well," she sighed, not at all put off by the less-than-friendly response, "I'll be sad to see you go; it isn't very often we get celebrities out here. Come back and visit us sometime, alright, Mr. Elric?"

The blonde just nodded half-heartedly and took a sip of coffee, not even acknowledging the woman as she bid him goodbye and left to take care of the other customers. Ed ate in silence, the action done almost mechanically, eyes fixed uncaringly on his suitcase. There was still half a plate of eggs left and a good portion of the ham when he finally stood and dropped his payment on the table, making his way over to the front desk to make his checkout official and make sure they billed Central Headquarters; the only thing he'd finished was the coffee.

The train ride back to Central was long and uneventful. Not wholly unexpected, but not entirely welcome either. There had been a time (it felt like a lifetime ago, though it had only been a few years) when Ed couldn't walk _outside _without someone wanting him dead or someone needing his help, the scars decorating his body a testament to that fact; but now… He supposed he should be glad that things seemed to be settling down for the country in general, but it made Ed restless. Anxious. It unnerved him even more than knowing that there was a serial murderer after him, and that fact just made him even more aggravated.

The better part of his life had been dedicated to alchemy and his family and how alchemy could be used to make his family happier. First it had been transmuting little gifts to make his mother smile once it had become glaringly obvious that his father wasn't coming back; then it had been seeking a way to bring the woman back from the dead to be with her sons again; after that, Ed had spent five long and hard years trying to find a way to give his brother back the life he'd taken from him; and then, when he'd finally accomplished that, the young man had needed to find a way back to his own home to protect that life he'd given the younger boy. Of course he should have known; should have realized that, not only would it be unnecessary, but it would complicate things in a way that Ed… Well, as much as he was unwilling to admit it to anyone, but he hadn't really been equipped to handle it…

Of course Al would have been taken care of. There were so many people that had fallen in love with the sweet-mannered younger boy, and it was no wonder that _any _of them would have offered to take him in when he'd abruptly found himself alone in a world that had apparently passed five years without him. But Ed had figured, if anyone, it would have been the Rockbells; after all, they were the only ones that Al really _knew_, and they were practically family besides. But imagine the young man's shock when he returned to find that after living nearly three months with Pinako and Winry, Al had moved in with _Roy Mustang _of _all _people.

"Initially," his brother had said, "It was because he knew so much more than anyone about you and I, and what had happened over those five years. But…"

At that point, Alphonse's face had turned several interesting shades of red. At that point, Roy had reached out, taking the boy's hand and giving it a squeeze, the softest of smiles on his face in a silent reassurance.

At that point, Ed had excused himself from their presence, from their house, and checked himself into an inn on the other side of town. He hadn't been able to explain, then, what had come over him; why he suddenly felt an unfamiliar rage boil up inside of him.

How could they be so damned casual!

How _dare _they be so damned casual!

How dare they smile at each other like that!

How dare they do something like this behind his back!

How dare they do something like this while he'd been struggling for _two long years _to find a way back!

How dare they move on without him while he'd been _alone_!

It had been _that _thought that had stopped Ed from tossing a small lamp across the room; that made him truly _think _about what it was he was so upset about.

They were happy. Roy and Alphonse were _happy_. Roy and Alphonse were happy with _each other_.

Roy and Alphonse were happy with each other, and without _him_.

Ed didn't even know how he'd made it to the bathroom. Just remembered kneeling over the toilet and retching into it until there was nothing left for his stomach to give up, the tiles of the floor biting into his right knee. When he was finally able to stand again, he was wobbly on his feet and he had to grab the counter to remain standing as he turned on the faucet and splashed the cool water on his face. He'd spent his life trying to make the people he cared about happy, his little brother first and foremost. Now that the two most significant people in his life since he'd been eleven had found happiness he _should _be happy for them. But Ed found himself resentful of everything they shared, how close they'd gotten to each other while he'd been tortured for two years by the shadows, the living mockeries of the people he'd cared about while he tried to find a way back home.

It wasn't right that he be resentful of that; it wasn't right that he be jealous of them; and it _especially _wasn't right that he wanted to get in the way of the happiness of both men when he'd worked so hard to bring it about for at least one of them. The young man looked at himself carefully in the mirror; saw the utter disgust there for his thoughts and his feelings and, when he saw the tears, he turned the water on fully and hoped it would do to cover up his silent sobs as he buried his face in his arms.

The blonde was graciously pulled out of his thoughts when the conductor came by to check his ticket. This was why Ed hated the train; had _always _hated the train. There was nothing to do but think and, even when he'd been eleven or fifteen, that never led to good places. At least back then, though… he'd had Al with him. It hadn't taken the brothers long to realize the dangers of train-travel and the next chance they got they had picked up a deck of cards. It had been a silent agreement between the siblings, both understanding what might happen if they were left to think. But now… Well, it was probably safer not having the younger Elric with him anyway and Ed just found different ways to keep his mind occupied.

Fumbling around in his pocket, he finally produced the ticket without a word, only glancing up at the conductor for a moment. The man had a kind smile and hazel eyes that reminded him too much of his brother's. Ed carefully kept his own gaze away from the man's face for the rest of the ride and he pulled out his notebook from his suitcase to begin writing his report.

* * *

"Well, Edward, it looks like another job well-done."

The tawny-haired man set down his subordinate's report and smiled at the young man. It was a warm smile, pride for the alchemist under his command. It was partly that warm smile that had attracted Ed to General Mitchell in the first place; but even more so the light brown, almost blonde hair that looked like it had once probably been shaped into the proper military buzz cut but had since grown out.

"Thank you, Sir," Ed nodded and waited patiently to be dismissed.

Mitchell flipped through the pages of the alchemist's report again, making sure he hadn't missed anything important before he signed the last page and set his pen and glasses down on his desk. "You took a little extra time on this one than you usual do, Edward," he murmured thoughtfully, regarding his underling with a bit of curiosity in his eyes.

Edward raised an eyebrow at the man, meeting his gaze for the first time since he'd walked into his office. "Is there a concern about my performance, _Sir_?" he asked a bit more sharply than was probably warranted.

Mitchell merely chuckled and pushed his chair back from his desk. "Not at all, Edward," he answered reassuringly, making his way over to the young man at a comfortable pace. "More of a concern about you."

Ed stiffened defensively at that, his hands clenching just slightly behind him. "The target was a serial burglar, Sir," he responded blandly, "It wasn't exactly a matter of life or death that I caught him within the day."

"Perhaps that is the problem though?" It was more a statement than anything and Ed found himself unable to meet the man's searching gaze. "The FullMetal Alchemist. Champion of the People. A genius alchemist and a skilled fighter, with an unshakeable sense of right and wrong. Single-handedly uncovered the corruption of our country's Military, brought it down with the help of your brother and your former commanding officer, and came back from the dead--"

"You give me more credit than I deserve, Sir."

Mitchell gave the young man that weighing look again and continued. "You're reputation precedes you, Edward, and I can't deny that I felt a little ego boost when I found out that you would be transferred to my detail since Private Mustang resigned his post. But… I can't help but feel that… Well, that you're _bored_."

There was just the faintest tightening of Ed's jaw at the mention of Mustang, but his eyes flew wide at that… It wasn't quite an accusation, he supposed, but how was he supposed to take that? "I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean, Sir," the young man replied with just a hint of bite in his tone.

The General cocked his head to the side, as if confused by the blonde's answer, and then moved to stand directly in front of him, looking down the mere four inches that separated them and yet somehow making it seem as if they were on the exact same level. "You're a young man, Edward," he murmured, the warmth in his voice undeniable, "But you've seen and accomplished much in your few years. Now that things seem to be calming down for the country…"

Edward scowled at the unfinished thought and met that kind gaze with little more than ferocious indignation. "What exactly is it you're trying to say, _General_?"

"I think you're lost," the man sighed finally, shaking his head just slightly as he lifted a hand to caress down the side of his subordinate's throat, unsure if he should be relieved or frightened when he didn't pull away. "I've known you for a little over a year, Edward, and with each mission you go on I see less and less of that eager fifteen-year-old I'd heard so much about and more of… More of this tired old man who looks like he's suddenly gone from the battlefield to doing office work."

Ed was a little unsure how he was expected to respond to that, so he turned just faintly into the hand now at his cheek, stroking gently just under his eye in acknowledgement of the words.

A short sigh puffed from Mitchell's nose and he shook his head as if at a child who'd cut up his father's work papers to make him a birthday card. "Nothing I say is going to change how you do things, is it?" A stubborn half-hearted glare was his only response and the man just smiled again and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to Edward's forehead and then nuzzled their noses together. "Well, I'm glad you're back in one piece this time, anyway," he added with a wry grin.

"I came back in one piece last time too," Ed argued, returning the nuzzling though with an almost weary smile. "And I'll just have you know, _Sir_, that gashes and concussions are hardly not coming back in one piece."

"I suppose," the man conceded, and lifted up Ed's chin with a finger to steal a brief kiss from the younger blonde's lips. Those kind eyes slowly shifted until there was a whole different type of warmth directed at the alchemist. "I don't suppose you have some free time this evening?"

Golden eyes quite abruptly looked away from the man's, a familiar guilty expression forming on Edward's face that spoke without the blonde even having to open his mouth. He did anyway. "I'm sorry, I can't tonight. I have--"

"What have I told you about making excuses, Edward?" Mitchell chided in a mockery of a stern tone. "You're dismissed." The man took a respectable step back, an understanding smile on his lips as he watched the young man nod, salute, and then leave.

He couldn't deny that he was disappointed, really, but Mitchell understood quite well why the blonde couldn't see him that night. It had actually been happening more and more frequently when he came back from an assignment. At first the General had just assumed that Edward was meeting one of his _other_ lovers, but on closer inspection, he'd been unable to find that subtle shift in personality, in countenance, in just the way the Colonel _carried_ himself that happened after he'd been with one of his lovers; and Mitchell realized that…perhaps Ed was moving on. From them and from whatever had happened that had settled that heavy weight on his shoulders and put those scars in his eyes. But, if that was the case, then why was Mitchell so worried about the young man?

Perhaps he needed to have a conversation with a few of his acquaintances.

* * *

The only thing that told Ed that it was lunchtime was the severe lack of blue uniforms as he slowly made his way from the top floors of Central Headquarters. And the only thing that actually steered him towards the mess hall was the knowledge that, if he didn't at least make an appearance while he was holding a tray with some sort of edible substance on it, he would be hearing about it from Lieutenant Lancer and Major General Tutor as soon as the mess hall cleared out. They always made it a point of "running into him" whether he'd eaten or not.

That thought nearly made the blonde smile and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stared at the floor and followed the path to the mess hall mechanically and with complete indifference.

Lieutenant Eli Lancer. A young man of twenty-six and one of those eager-to-please sorts that never could _quite_ get it right. He had a sort of innocent charm that made him seem younger than he really was and he was gracefully clumsy. That had been how Edward had met him, in fact.

Mitchell had pulled rank to get Edward into the cafeteria after a particularly bad assignment (though it hadn't been the assignment that had left him in the foul mood) and, as soon as he'd filled up his tray and turned to find a seat, the good Lieutenant had slipped on a section of the floor that had been a bit over-waxed the night before and skated into Ed. Both of them had landed on the floor, Ed on his stomach and Eli laying on top of his back. However, to the alchemist's surprise, when he looked up the first thing he noticed was the older man holding the blonde's tray an inch or so above the floor with only a few left over peas having skittered off his plate. The second thing he noticed, when they'd both managed to stand up and Lancer had stopped apologizing, was that his eyes were the most interesting shade of brown; so dark they were nearly black.

Ed had immediately invited him to eat lunch with him and the blonde was positively charmed by his innocent enthusiasm. Later that night they'd had dinner at Eli's Military dorm and Ed had found out that the Lieutenant was just the same in bed.

The Major General, however, was a completely different animal.

Graham Tutor was a tall man in his mid-forties that had thick jet black hair to _die_ for. It complemented his somewhat time-worn face perfectly and, with the chain of that silver pocket watch dangling from his pocket, he was more than appealing to those who fancied older men. The Major General knew how to take control of a situation, and he enjoyed doing it. He was both firm and gentle depending on what the situation called for, and he _always_ knew what it called for. And Tutor was the same way with Ed. He probably knew best how to read the blonde, second only to Mitchell; the difference was that Graham was able to adjust and give the young man exactly what he needed, even if _Ed _wasn't sure what that was.

There were a couple of other Military officials with whom Ed spent his free time; a Major with an almost exotic look to his features that was reminiscent of the inhabitants of Xing, and a fellow Colonel with the second most expressive brown eyes the alchemist had ever seen. However, with the FullMetal Alchemist so frequently out of town, he was often unable to meet with any of his lovers, so he had to improvise.

A few cities, such as Xenotime and Lior, were rather prone to problems; problems that required the touch of the Military. Considering that Ed was already so familiar with these towns, he was often sent to take care of the problems. With his frequent visits, it was difficult to _not_ get to know people and there was always a bed waiting for him in two or three of these towns. Xenotime, in particular, was one town that Edward hadn't minded frequenting early on. The townspeople were corrupt enough that he'd often-times gotten the chance to hit something. Besides that Russell Tringham was there.

The younger blonde had been cocky and self-assured when they'd first met, and he hadn't changed a bit over the three years since Ed had seen him. The sparkle in those blue eyes and that smirk that seemed constantly plastered to his face whenever Ed was within a mile of him was the same sort of mocking and challenging expression that he remembered on someone _else_ from his past. But while nothing of Russell's personality or looks had changed, the one thing that _had_ was their relationship. They were still every bit as competitive, but the two young men fought out their battle in the bedroom instead. It was never a certainty who would come out on top and, by the time they were through, both blondes were covered in scratches and bite marks, unable to even move. That is, until they'd worked each other up enough to have another go.

Perhaps the most surprising thing, though, was not the fact that one so young had so many lovers, but that they all knew (Ed, in fact, had his suspicions that some of the closer ones spent time with each _other_ when he was unable to), and they all accepted it. Even in the most intimate of situations, with nothing separating their bodies but their own skin, they could all sense the unfathomable distance between themselves and the lover they shared. Ed cared about each and every one of them, yes -- was probably incapable of anything less -- and each one of them cared about him, but there was always something blocking them from him. It was in the way that Ed would never initiate a kiss; the way he wouldn't let his hair down with any of them; the way he seemed to focus on one feature alone of the man he was with; the way he wouldn't even say the other's name from the time their clothes would drop to the floor until he'd walked out the door; the fact that no one was ever invited back to _his _Military dorm; and the look of guilt on his face afterwards that not even his most convincing smile could completely conceal.

For some reason, unknown to any of Edward's lovers, the young man needed them. But, at the same time, he hated himself every time the need became too much that he fell into bed with one of them. They all knew the circumstances, or what little he'd tell them about it; they understood that this was no long-term set up, nothing resembling a serious romantic relationship. And they all accepted that without so much as a frown. It was Ed, however, that knew he was just using them. He may have cared about them, but they really only served to satiate his libido when it became too much for him to take care of on his own. He treated them as no better than prostitutes, and probably worse, considering that they received nothing from this. That was why he was trying to stop; trying to control these sick urges of his. Before he--

"Sir."

Ed looked up from the tray he was idly pushing around the bland starchy goo that passed for mashed potatoes and his eyes widened slightly in what might have been horror as he saw who that voice had belonged to.

"Private," he acknowledged with the slightest of nods once he'd schooled his expression into something more neutral. He immediately turned his attention back to his plate.

Mustang frowned at the young man and took a seat without bothering to ask permission.

A long silence followed and Ed could feel the man's gaze on him and hated himself for the shiver it sent down his spine. "Was there something you wanted or did you just think you might stare at me for a while?" the blonde snapped finally, slamming his fork down on his tray hard enough to send a few potato smatterings flying to the table.

Roy met the blonde's fierce gaze with little more than bland smugness and he waited until Ed's gaze flinched back to his tray to answer. "Forgive me, Colonel," he replied coolly, putting just the slightest accent on the title, "But it has been quite some time since we've spoken. I was simply making certain you hadn't gone and changed."

"And what would you care if I had?"

Roy wasn't sure how he was expected to answer that; or what to make of the distinctly bitter tone, pathetically masked behind sarcasm. Instead, after another pause, the former Colonel backtracked and answered Ed's initial question. "Alphonse's birthday is coming up," he murmured in a tone vaguely reminiscent of the one he used to use when outlining the strategy of a mission. "He's turning--"

"Nineteen, yeah, I _know_. Thanks for the newsflash."

The expression on the blonde's face was nothing less than insulted, and he was glaring at his former commanding officer as if he had some of that horrid starchy mush on his face. Roy merely watched the young man a few moments, waiting until he wouldn't risk injury before he cleared his throat quietly and continued. "The Hughes' and I, along with a few close friends, were planning on having a get-together of sorts, nothing formal."

Ed was practically vibrating with the tension running through him. He knew what the older man was going to ask.

"Alphonse knows, of course…"

Had been expecting it for about a week now.

"…and he would really like it…"

Despite his attempts to ignore the upcoming date.

"If you were--"

"I'm going to be out of town!"

Both men blinked up at that, and the older saw his own surprise mirrored in golden eyes before they were turned down to that damned tray and hidden beneath long blonde bangs.

"I'm going to be out of town," Ed repeated, "I have an assignment. I can't pass it on to anyone else, General Mitchell wants me on it." Both of the Colonel's hands pressed to the table and he stood up in one motion and grabbed his tray, murmuring before he darted for the door, "Tell Alphonse I'm sorry I can't make it, and Happy Birthday."

Mustang blinked at the blonde's receding back, noting the way his shoulders had hunched over, his gaze was directed at the floor, and his movements were sharp and almost hesitant. He didn't understand it; had tried so hard over the past year to understand it, only to fail rather miserably. The expression on his face could only be categorized as disappointed; not only because he knew Alphonse would be upset, but Roy, himself, had rather been looking forward to spending time with his former subordinate. Apparently it just wasn't to be, though and, as much as it just frustrated him knowing he had no idea why things had turned out this way, he still couldn't help but dwell on it whenever he got a free moment.

Those were really the only times he ever saw Edward anymore, though, was in his own mind. The FullMetal Alchemist was always out of town, and even when he was staying in Central he wasn't easily found. Hell, not even his own little _brother_ knew where exactly Ed was living, and that just irritated him further.

But as he watched the clearly defensive form of that once proud alchemist attempt to leave the crowded mess hall, Roy was surprised to feel that irritation turn into full-fledged anger as one Major General Tutor stepped through the doors and cut off the blonde's exit. It wasn't the man himself that Mustang found himself upset with, but the fact that, at the sight of the man, Ed had clearly relaxed, if just a bit; especially when what was probably meant to be construed as a companionable arm settled at the young man's waist. The image might have actually been successful, if Edward hadn't been leaning just slightly against the Major General's side, and, for Roy, that was _enough_. In one sharp movement, he was out of his seat and stalking towards the exit, his entire countenance just as frightening and intimidating as it had been when he'd been known as the Flame Alchemist. No, Alphonse most certainly was not going to like this, but neither did Roy.

* * *

Mitchell blinked up at the blonde whirlwind that had quite suddenly whisked into his office, hands slammed on the General's desk and shouting something about an assignment.

"I'm sorry, Edward, I didn't quite catch that," the older man murmured calmly and pleasantly.

"I said I want an _assignment_," Ed repeated, hands clamping just slightly on the desk. "I want a _mission_. I _need_ a mission. Something that'll take me _far_ away and make sure I _stay _there until at _least_ the end of next week. And no more _bullshit_, Mitchell! I won't go chasing after anymore of these damned two-bit _cat-burglars_. I _know_ you have something bigger than that sitting in your filing cabinet so cough it up before I break the damn _lock_!"

The look on the General's face was nothing if not concerned, and he was out of his chair in a second and cradling his subordinate's face in both hands. "Edward, what's going on, what's happened?"

"Nothing!" the blonde snapped, though he was unable to come up with anything more convincing than that as he tried to pull away from those hands and that _look_ he was getting.

"Edward, _please_," Mitchell begged, grabbing Ed's shoulders when he pulled his face away, "Tell me what's wrong!"

The frightened quality of the General's voice was probably the only thing that made the young man relinquish and, as those arms closed around him, Ed all but collapsed against the older man's chest, burrowing his face into the General's throat beneath his chin, his entire body trembling as he fought for control over his emotions.

For his part, Mitchell didn't try to make Edward talk anymore, merely murmured soothingly into his hair as his hands rubbed in gentle circles up and down the young man's back. It was times like these, as rare as they were, that Ed really thought that the older man would make someone a wonderful father someday, and it wasn't long at all before he began to calm down.

"I need to be out of town next week," the blonde stated, his tone, though quiet, yielding no inquiries as to why this needed to be. "And I need to be doing something that takes up more brain cells than tracking down a thief."

The General chuckled softly at that, his arms slowly loosening their hold as Ed calmed down. "Well, I believe there's a case that just came in from somewhere in the West. A couple of possibly corrupt Officers. I do believe that's your specialty, isn't it, FullMetal?"

His tone had been teasing enough, but Ed tensed at the use of his second name before forcing himself to remember that Mitchell _wasn't_ Mustang; and then he forced himself to ignore distinct tightening of his throat as he remembered that. "Don't screw with me, Mitchell," the blonde retorted, "I want something that I'll have to actually _work_ on. I want a _challenge_ for once." The look in those golden eyes was fierce as he pulled away and told quite clearly of the fact that, if the General didn't give him what he wanted, then he was going to go out and find it for himself.

Mitchell _gulped_ in the face of that look. He'd only ever heard about it before; stories told 'round the water cooler or in the mess hall; especially after the FullMetal Alchemist had disappeared, sending him into the bedtime stories of every child. And after the FullMetal Alchemist had come back from the dead, sending him into legend across the country.

"Alright," he practically whispered, and slowly headed back to his desk, tugging a key from his pocket and unlocking the bottom-right drawer of his desk. "I've been sitting on this file for the past month," he explained, his tone all business as he pulled a manila folder from the drawer and held it out in front of him. When Ed reached for it, Mitchell quickly drew it back, holding up a finger to wait until he was through explaining. "As you know," the man continued," While things have settled down between our country and those to the East of us, we're still on rather precarious standing with Drachma. The Briggs Mountains have discouraged most attempts for either of our countries to enter the other; however, recently the citizens of a few of those northern towns that lie on the border have reported possible Military disturbances…"

"They're just not our Military," Ed finished the thought for him and received a nod. "So do you think Drachma's trying to invade then?"

"We're not certain. Fuhrer Hakuro has ordered us to keep this quiet for the time-being, until we can be sure that there's a threat. However, as far as my intelligence knows he hasn't sent out anyone to gather any information to that end."

Edward took the file when Mitchell finally handed it him and quickly scanned the contents: Conflicting reports of violence, looting, and frightened refugees. It sounded as if Drachma's government might be imploding in on itself, or it could merely be going through a major change for all of these Drachmans -- soldiers and civilians alike, it sounded -- to be chancing the journey through the Mountains.

"So it's a reconnaissance mission," the blonde clarified, turning his attention back to his commanding officer.

"More or less," Mitchell nodded, "You may meet with some resistance, however, if they find out you're from the Military."

"Knowing _my_ luck, I'll meet resistance anyway," Ed retorted, but the slight upturn of the one corner of his lips told the General that his subordinate was _hoping_ to meet resistance, and he sighed as he was reminded of their earlier conversation.

The sound made Edward look back up from the file and he nodded and saluted. "Thank you, Sir."

Mitchell waved it off and sighed again, a long-suffering sound that was deliberately dramatized. "I don't suppose you've changed your mind about this evening, Edward?"

The blonde tried not to let the hopeful tone sway him as he shook his head a bit guiltily; he hadn't been planning on spending that evening with _anyone_, but after the scene in the mess hall, he'd already made plans with Tutor. "I'm probably going to be heading out in about four days…" he murmured in lieu of an actual answer. It was a bit of an unspoken rule between the two, that no matter how Ed was feeling, they'd find time the day before he left on a mission to spend together. It wasn't even about the sex, but Mitchell had proved to be a very superstitious man when, the first time they'd slept together right before one of the younger man's missions just happened to coincide with the first time he'd returned without, what the _General_ had called, a serious injury. Ed thought it stupid, but he indulged the man; it almost made him feel like there was something worth coming back to.

The older man just smiled and nodded in that understanding way of his and, when it was apparent there was nothing left to say, Mitchell dismissed the Colonel and wished him an enjoyable evening.

Ed saluted and thanked his commanding officer before stepping out of the office and greeting Tutor outside the door. A few words were exchanged, questions asked and vague answers given in return, then the Major General handed Edward his coat and led him through Central Headquarters towards the employee parking lot at the back of the building, picking up Lieutenant Lancer along the way.

Only one of the men noticed the careful scrutiny of someone in the building as the Lieutenant kissed the Colonel goodbye in the parking lot, and Edward couldn't help but be impressed and completely unnerved by the fact that, even with only one good eye, Mustang's gaze was still just as intense, burning a hole through him at the point it connected with his body. He flashed a somewhat wan and completely unconvincing smile to Tutor when he asked if something was wrong, and the man reached out to brush a finger along the curve of those lips before he promised the younger man that he would make everything alright.

Edward didn't really believe that the Major General would accomplish such a thing but, as he climbed into the older man's car, the blonde believed that he would try and, for him, that was all he could really hope for, and that was enough.


	2. Chapter 2: Deconstruction

**For Summary, Pairings, Rating, Warnings, Disclaimer, and Notes, see Chapter One.**

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**Chapter Two: Deconstruction**

Two bodies slumped heavily to the bed, hot wet and panting, steel limbs tangling with flesh as both men attempted to catch their breath.

Mitchell nuzzled the side of his subordinate's throat, nibbling lightly when Edward's head tilted back just so with a quiet, weary groan. He knew the blonde would soon come back to himself, and would leave in a reluctant rush with that heartbreaking smile trying to mask the guilt he felt, so the General always cherished these moments; when Edward was still lost in the haze of blissful thoughtlessness and allowed the older man to just _hold _him. He was highly protective of Ed, and as much as he knew how hard these little trysts wore on the blonde's conscience, he couldn't help but give in each and every time, hoping that maybe _this_ time would be different; maybe _this_ time he wouldn't wallow in a guilt he had no right feeling afterwards. Maybe _this_ time he'd stay.

But no, that was selfish. How could he hope to keep Ed when he'd never really belonged to him in the first place? Oh, it wasn't as if he thought one of the _other_ men in the young man's life had any more hold over him; in fact, if Mitchell let himself just that small amount of selfishness, he himself probably had the most sway over his lover. Though he held no illusions as to why; they'd been together the longest, and he felt he probably understood Edward the best. There _was_ also the matter of him being the younger man's commanding officer, but he'd learned long ago that that wasn't going to give him any sort of edge over Ed's fate or choices. He really had _less _of a chance of holding any power over the blonde as his commanding officer than as his lover. But he supposed, in the end, it was a moot point, because when he thought about it, Mitchell didn't really _want _to hold any power over the blonde.

Certainly he wanted to keep the younger man, but part of the reason for his attraction to Edward in the first place was the fact that _no one_ held any power over him. Well, that wasn't _quite_ true, he supposed. There was someone, outside of the blonde's circle of lover's, that held a great deal of power over the alchemist. All of them knew it, the Lieutenant, the Major General; even the young man's civilian lover's seemed to realize it, though Edward spent less time with them. One youth, in particular; Russell Tringham from one of those washed up mining towns out East. The General had met the younger blonde once or twice and was little less than shocked with the insight he seemed to have into Edward's mind. But then, Russell had known the alchemist from back when he'd been under Mustang's command and had learned quite a bit back then about Edward's personal circumstances.

One of these days, Mitchell thought, he was going to have to have a talk with Russell and Mustang.

The feel of movement beneath him broke the General out of his musings and, with a small grunt and some effort, the older man rolled off to the side, allowing the young blonde beneath him to get up. He watched in clear appreciation as Edward forced himself to sit up and get out of the bed, stretching to reawaken his muscles. He didn't even glance at Mitchell as he padded to the bathroom.

The sound of running water sounded muffled from behind the closed door and the General pulled a few tissues from the box on his nightstand to quickly clean himself up, pulling the sheets up to his waist once he'd tossed the tissues into the trash bin and promised himself a nice long bath once Ed was gone. The blonde in question didn't reappear for another few minutes, taking noticeably longer than the time really warranted to quickly wash up. But, as usual, Mitchell didn't ask, simply offered the young man an understanding smile when those guilt-ridden eyes met his for such a brief moment that it was undoubtedly an accident.

As soon as the blonde was all put together again, the General stood, scooping up a pair of sweat pants from the overstuffed chair near his bed and slipped into them before taking Ed lightly by the shoulders and keeping him standing in that spot before he ran off. "I want you to be careful on this mission, Edward," he murmured.

Ed's gaze was settled resolutely on the General's chest and he gave just a faint nod, his voice barely above a whisper when he replied, "I'll be careful…"

"You're to come back _alive_, and that's an order." The semi-teasing tone was enough to quirk up a corner of the blonde's lips in a weak smirk; Mitchell was pleased.

"Alive," Ed repeated with a nod.

"And in one piece."

"Now you're pushing your luck," the blonde retorted, again in that weak barely-there whisper.

Really, the older man was just pleased that he'd been able to get _that_ much out of him, and he took a step back, regretfully relinquishing his hold on the young man and watched him walk out the door.

Once Edward was out of Mitchell's house, he leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and took a deep shaky breath. The night was a bit chilly and damp with recently fallen rain and the young man could only be thankful that the General didn't live too far from the dorms but, as he felt the first faint pricklings of nausea beginning to set in, the blonde hurried his step a bit.

* * *

The pages of the text were worn enough that they didn't even crinkle as Ed turned them, and he seemed almost more intent on not tearing the fragile paper than the actual contents of the book. He didn't need to pay attention to the contents, though; he practically knew the entire book by heart. Had memorized it years ago as a child. A soft sigh puffed from the young man's mouth and he closed the book with a crackle of the aging glue and a thunk and he traced the elaborate array on the front cover with his metal fingers and then the letters in the title, "Alchemy." It had been the one thing he'd bothered saving from the fire that night when he and Al had burned their house down. It had been a hell of a job forcing himself back into that room, but there were still things in the book that he hadn't understood yet; concepts that he hadn't quite been able to grasp; besides that it was the oldest book in his father's small collection and it just seemed wrong to destroy it, despite that it had been the beginnings of his problems. 

Hell, if you looked at it _that_ way, it was probably only _right_ that it didn't burn; that he carried it with him, almost like a physical burden, the manifestation of the indefinable mental one he would always carry with him.

Edward scowled out the window and mentally cursed at his faint reflection. He'd started thinking again.

Perhaps, if the blonde's assumptions were correct about this new mission, he should consider moving to Drachma. At least then he'd be too busy quieting down riots or fighting back against some corrupt non-descript Military entity to think. He'd have some sort of goal to keep his mind focused on to keep it from torturing him with memories and what-ifs and emotions. The blonde squelched another sigh before one of his more overly friendly fellow passengers overheard and decided to try and make him feel better, and he turned until he was practically sitting on his side watching the landscape roll by.

It was a little more interesting than back south because as they traveled further north they got closer to the Briggs Mountains and that made the landscape start to bulge up in places, making hills instead of just flat plains so far as the eye could see. Nevertheless, even just watching the seemingly random jut of the hills seemed to have some sort of pattern and, as the blonde watched he felt his eyelids growing heavy. He wasn't all that surprised really, as he really hadn't slept that well the night before (he never did after one of his "dates"), but he still valiantly fought off his drowsiness. Sleeping in public was not something he particularly enjoyed doing, even as a kid, though then it had mostly been because of the utter vulnerability of it. Now, however, it was more that his sleep was very rarely undisturbed and, if it wasn't filled with disturbing images of his mistakes from his childhood and early teen years, then it was the possibly even _more_ disturbing images involving his little brother and Roy Mustang. Both instances left him moaning, he knew from experience, though the latter usually also came with the added bonus of an aching hard-on and, if he was especially lucky, his hand down his pants. So it was natural that Ed was quite a bit reluctant to fall asleep in public.

However, no matter how valiantly he fought, it seemed physical weariness was winning out on good reason and Ed was barely even aware of it when his eyes finally slid shut.

"Sir! Please wake up!"

He couldn't understand where the voices were coming from, but he suddenly found it difficult to move, more so than it had been before, and Ed thrashed even harder, earning him a few more shouts from those disembodied voices. It wasn't until one of those voices screamed in what could only be pain that his eyes finally opened and he slowly crawled out of the haze of the nightmare.

There was a crowd around his seat; other passengers either holding his arms down or just ogling like he was some damn freak. Well, he couldn't really deny that, but it was all mental, so it wasn't as if they should readily know that just from…

"_Fuck_…"

Golden eyes widened in pure horror as he saw the conductor, his face pale and sweating as he curled over his wrist. His wrist, which was currently being crushed by Ed's hand. His automail hand. He didn't have to be able to feel to realize just how strong his grip was, and when he finally managed to pull his hand away, the conductor's wrist was already red and swelling. Some of the more cool-headed passengers rushed over to the first aid kit hanging next to the door of the car and sat the injured man down in the seat across from Ed, beginning to splint his wrist and wrap it up, hoping to keep it stable and save it from further injury until he could get to a hospital.

Edward felt as if he were choking. His throat was closing up and was restricting the air-flow as he watched the others tend to the conductor. But at the same time his gorge was rising rapidly. He needed to get out of there, away from the eyes of the other passengers that were _looking _at him, and he wondered if he'd said anything, _done_ anything to give away what he'd been dreaming about, because they all had that _look _in their eyes, like they could see all of his dirtiest secrets written out plainly on his face.

Luckily, the young man was only two cars from the caboose, and he _flung_ himself through the doors, practically falling over the railing as he ran through the final door and outside. He made it just in time and he doubled over, clinging to the thin metal that separated him from just falling onto the tracks below as he choked and coughed up what little he'd eaten since that morning, the combination of the acid burning his throat and the force of the dream and what he'd woken up to making tears sting his eyes.

The dream. The _dream_. Damnit, how fucked up did someone have to be for their mind to come up with something like _that_ for mid-nap entertainment? It hadn't been one of those nightmares that had plagued him since the age of ten; and it hadn't been one of the more recent ones, tormenting him with his own sinful sexual desires; but rather it had been a sick and wholly disturbing mating of _both_.

Edward dry-heaved a few more times before his stomach realized that it was empty and he sunk to his knees, unable to pry to his hands from the railing. Eyes closed, the blonde pressed his forehead to one of the vertical metal bars connecting the railing to the train and just let the tears silently drip down his cheeks, knowing it was useless to try and stop them anyway. The thought came, not for the first time, that maybe he should go visit a psychologist; the Military had their own personal ones that he wouldn't even have to pay. But, just as every other time the idea had come up, it was quickly pushed aside. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was more scared of: Finding out that he was, in fact, insane, or that he was perfectly healthy. Insanity meant not only being stripped of his title and his job, but, most likely, he'd either be put on some sort of medication that turned him into a walking vegetable or he'd be institutionalized; and _that_ was not something he wanted to deal with for the rest of his life. However, sanity meant that there were other people besides him that had these thoughts, these sick dreams, and the young man was fairly sure he preferred being the only one that had to deal with this. Besides that the thought of actually _telling_ someone about these dreams was frightening enough _anyway_.

"Forget your ticket?" a vaguely mocking voice asked from behind him. The blonde hadn't even heard the door open, but that didn't matter, because he recognized that voice. Recognized it far too well, and his eyes flew open to stare at the train tracks as they sped away from him. Other than that, though, he didn't move, didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard the older man. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. Not now! Not so soon after that dream! Not _here_!

He was supposed to be safe here! Or at least safe from the man behind him. That had been the point! So what the hell was going on!

His hands tightened around the railing, the metal creaking quietly against the metal of his right hand. Maybe if he just ignored him then Roy would go away…

"We heard the commotion."

No such luck.

"By the time we got back to your car you were already heading for the exit." There was a faint shuffling of feet and Ed heard the door shut, and the next Roy spoke, he was a bit closer. "For a second I thought you were going to jump from the train; I suppose I should have known better."

"'We'?" the younger man spoke up finally, his voice horse and cracking, "So…"

"Alphonse is sitting with the young man with the broken wrist." The blonde winced. "He's studied a bit about Xing's medical alchemy, so he should be able to set it until he can get to a hospital and get it fixed properly." Of course Ed easily read the missing end to that statement: '_You would know this if you'd bothered to spend _any _time with your little brother at _all _since you returned_.'

The silence grew between them, not quite uncomfortable but more like something living and altogether unstable; as if one of them saying the wrong thing could make them _both _explode.

"What are you doing here?" Ed demanded quietly, finally breaking the silence. When no answer came and nothing quite blew up, he asked again, louder and finally stood and whipped around to look at his former commanding officer. "_What the hell are you doing here_!"

Roy looked blatantly taken aback, visible eye widened and lips parted in a silent exclamation of surprise. But the older man was really only reacting to the blonde's appearance, so dramatically changed since, what had it been, only four days ago? And yet Edward's face was pale, his eyebrows furrowed deeply and he seemed to be shaking; now that he was able to get a good look at the young man for the first time in nearly a year, he noticed also that there seemed to be a few premature strands of grey twining through his hair. And even though the fire burning in his eyes, fueled by guilt, disgust, and just plain frustrated uncertainty was nothing new, it seemed magnified ten-fold at this moment, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was to be wholly blamed on the puffy redness of them; obviously he'd just been crying, a fact that just served to surprise the older man more. There was a raw quality about him, and Roy had the feeling that it had something to do with whatever had lead the young man to break the poor conductor's wrist.

The older man's expression was schooled back into something more befitting the former Flame Alchemist in a second and the look he gave Edward wasn't quite a scowl, but it was bordering it. "Alphonse's birthday is coming up in a few days--"

"We've already had this conversation, Mustang!" Ed snapped, "If you're throwing him a party shouldn't you both be back in Central with all of your _buddies_?"

Again there was that distinctly bitter tone, and Roy filed the information away in his mind to ponder later. "The party has been cancelled."

There was a momentary flash of surprise before Ed realized where this conversation was going, but he still remained cautious, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet. "Why?"

"Because Alphonse wished to spend it with _you_, Edward." No reaction. "We've spoken at length for the past month or so about what he wanted to do to celebrate. He spent two years not knowing what had happened to the last of his family and as much as he seemed to content to spend the day with a few close friends, it was clear that, now that he _could _have you there, he _wanted_ it."

The enormous rise of guilt in those fierce golden eyes was nearly a physical change, but neither man said anything for some time. Edward had already caused his little brother so much pain in their admittedly short lives when all he'd wanted was to make things better for him. But now, as selfish as he knew he was being, he knew he couldn't stand being in either Roy's or Alphonse's presence, let alone for such a long period of time. There was nothing for him to focus on anymore to turn his thoughts away from his own desires; and besides, it would be better for both of the other men in the long run, if Ed wasn't constantly fighting the urge to ruin the only thing that had brought a smile to his brother's face since their mother had been alive.

Then there was a warm hand on his cheek and Edward didn't know when he'd gotten so close, but Roy was only a few inches away and he could _see_ his lips moving, probably forming his name but the expression on his face that exuded pure concern, as if he actually really cared about the blonde, seemed to be somehow drowning out the sound of the older man's voice. And Ed was trapped. Completely unable to move away from the man, even though he _knew_ he should, because this _wasn't_ something he was allowed to want because it was something his brother already _had_ and Ed had no right, _no right_ to interfere with that. Besides that it was also his _brother _and that just _wasn't right_ and how could he burden Alphonse with that?

Roy was awestruck by the look of sheer longing and pain in those stunning golden eyes, completely speechless as he brushed his thumb along the line of the younger man's cheek. But in the next instant, that utter vulnerability was replaced once again by that guilt that had nearly swallowed the young alchemist whole as a boy, but seemed to be doing a better job of it that past year. And then Edward was gone, and Roy was left to lean his hands on the small metal railing, staring at the tracks as they sped away from him. There seemed to be nothing he could do for Edward, to chase that haunted look from his eyes; but only because he wouldn't stand to be in the older man's presence for any amount of time. And that hurt, more even than thinking the young man had died three years ago.

Edward barely had the presence of mind to be thankful that the crowd formerly gathered around his seat with the conductor had left, especially when he remembered that Alphonse was supposed to have been helping the injured man. Nevertheless, he still got a few curious and vaguely offended looks from some of the other passengers, and the blonde wasted _no _time in dragging his suitcase down from the overhead shelf and moving to one of the more crowded cars in front of him. He steeled himself and asked someone sitting alone in an aisle seat if he could take the one by the window and felt at once relieved and nervous when she smiled and shifted back so he could get through. As long as she didn't try and strike up a conversation, he supposed it was a cheap price to pay so that he could have a better chance at hiding if Mustang came looking for him again. He idly wondered how they'd even known that he was going to be on this train anyway, but chalked it up to the fact that Mustang probably still had those same omniscient powers; though just exactly what _else _he knew was enough to make Ed nauseous again. Luckily, he'd already emptied his stomach along the railroad track, so there was nothing to worry about concerning that.

The last two-and-a-half hours of the train ride went by torturously slow, but without any further disturbances. The only contact Ed had with anyone was a minute-long one-sided conversation with one of the other conductors. He gave the man his name, authorization number, and the number to General Mitchell's office, explaining that he should pass on the information to the man with the broken wrist once he got to the hospital and they'd take the amount of the bill out of his own pay. It was the least he could do, after all. Other than that, even the woman sitting next to him just gave him a curious look but otherwise didn't bother him, which he was eternally grateful for; he wasn't certain he was quite in the right mindset to deal with nosy strangers.

Ed was out of his seat before the train even fully pulled into the station, practically bouncing in front of the doors until they opened and he darted out of them with no mind as to where exactly he was going. All Edward knew was that he had to get as far away from the train as possible and the passengers inside. If Roy and Alphonse had really come to spend the younger blonde's birthday with him, then he knew he couldn't give them any idea as to how to find him. He had a pretty good head start as, if he still knew his little brother, the two lovers would be staying behind to make sure the conductor made it to the hospital alright.

The blonde didn't stop running until he'd made it out of the train station and down onto the main road, pushing through the crowd of people waiting for their rides and flagging down a taxi cab.

"Where to, Boss?"

"The furthest possible inn from here that's still within city-limits."

A nod was all he got before they were veering off into traffic and Ed had another half-hour wait before he was through traveling. He took the time to get a good look at this latest location.

It wasn't quite the thriving city that Central was, but it wasn't really the small rural town that Rizenbul was either. Once upon a time, Grenzeberg had been an affluent trading town, being situated just near the most hospitable path through the Briggs Mountains to connect Amestris with Drachma. Because the trade route was so dangerous, however, the goods brought in from the northern country had been in short supply and, therefore, in great demand. No one ever knew what really happened that all contact between the two countries stopped, but each side claimed the other was responsible.

There had been a rather large caravan of both Drachmans and Amestrians traveling back to Grenzeberg with their latest haul; maybe about thirty or so men. The man who'd commissioned their trip back in Amestris never heard from them, but supposedly neither had his Drachman counterpart. Both sides claimed foul play: Drachma saying the Amestrians had killed their men and stolen the goods; and Amestris saying the Drachmans resented them using the imported goods and getting a larger profit for them and, likewise had killed _their _men. Of course since the two countries had never quite been on very friendly terms to begin with, no one stopped to think that, perhaps the party had simply gotten lost and died in the mountains. Ed had to wonder what would happen if they sent an expedition out into the mountains and they came back with the remains of the party. He supposed it didn't matter, however; it had happened so long ago, there wasn't a soul living that remembered that time, and probably hadn't been for the past few decades. Besides, while there _had_ been talk of war at the time, the mountains were a danger that _neither_ country was willing to risk, even for war.

Grenzeberg, however, hadn't suffered greatly from the loss of that particular trade route. Once the route had closed down for good, they'd focused on their appeal as a holiday getaway. Nestled comfortably in the shadow of the Briggs Mountains with a view perfect for any postcard from any one spot in the town, it quickly became a popular vacation spot for honeymooners and skiing-enthusiasts. The fact that it was also home to the second best university in the country probably didn't hurt either (second only to the one in Central).

The highly-originally-named Briggs University and its extensive library was something that Edward would have been interested to see; however with this particular mission it would probably be impossible. Besides that he'd probably be spending any free time that he _did _happen to get, trying to keep away from Alphonse and his lover.

That thought just made the blonde scowl furiously, and he saw the cab driver shrink away from him as he paid the man and left the car, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Why had this had to happen _now _of _all _times? Just when he had finally started to try and get over them? Better yet, why had it had to happen at _all_? He couldn't claim that he'd been happy separating himself from the both of them, but Edward had been far more content when they _hadn't _been chasing after him; trying to make him believe that they cared. No, that wasn't really fair; Edward knew very well that they cared. The problem was in the fact that they didn't care about him in the way he wanted them to; the fact that the more rational part of his mind knew he _shouldn't_ want them to because they already cared about _each other _that way and he had no right to want to interfere with that. _Especially _because one of them was his brother.

"Here you go, Mr. Tringham," the concierge smiled, despite the rather cold look she was getting, and handed the young man the key to his room.

Ed just nodded and accepted the key, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket as he headed towards the main stairs. The false name had been necessary -- all he was supposed to be doing was reconnaissance, after all, just information gathering -- as the name Edward Elric was rather well-known throughout the country and he couldn't chance the objects of his investigation finding out he was Military. The _choice _of name, however, had become a bit of a habit; an equal trade for Russell Tringham using the State Alchemist's name for all those months.

Once he was safe in what was to be his room for the next week at least, Ed leaned heavily against the closed door and sighed, loudly, the sound more weary than the walk up the three flights of stairs warranted. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this. He _knew _he wasn't going to be able to do this. It had been bad enough living in the same town, working in the same building, however large. Fuhrer Hakuro had denied his request for a transfer to _anywhere_ else, wanting the powerful young alchemist, hero in the eyes of the public, close by. It had been hard, especially at first when Alphonse and Roy would try to track him down and corner him for a conversation, some sort of explanation. But after a time, they'd stopped; realizing that he couldn't see them. Or maybe they just thought he didn't _want _to see them. Either way, it was really all fine by him, because it meant that he could let his guard down a little. He supposed it was Alphonse's birthday that had more than likely sparked again this sudden interest in seeing him, but that didn't make it any less difficult. And now, with his brother and former commanding officer actively searching for him, he was positive that he wouldn't make it out of this town with his sanity intact.

Ignoring the beautiful view of the mountains from the window at the back of his room, Edward collapsed onto the freshly-made bed and didn't move for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, Ed spent the good majority of his time listening to the gossip in town, getting familiar with the townsfolk, and making connections. He dressed to make himself as unassuming as possible, even stopped braiding his hair for the time-being, keeping it back in a simple ponytail instead. The young man was also thankful that he'd broug his heavy long coat as, being this far north and the seasons changing from the warmer, it was growing awfully cold, especially at night when he could almost see his breath as he left the diner he'd regularly eaten dinner at and headed over to the bar rumored to be frequented by alleged Drachman refugees. 

The rumors had, he was almost positive of it, turned out to be true. They may have been able to hide themselves physically, but it was something they couldn't change that had ultimately given them away. While the Drachman language was somewhat similar to that of Amestris having, roughly, the same roots, they were, ultimately, two separate languages. And while the alleged refugees wouldn't be so reckless as to try and sneak into a country without learning it's language well enough that they could hold on conversations, there was a subtle difference between their accents. The Amestrian accent tended to be sharp and clipped in relation to the heavy rolling Drachman accent, so it wasn't very difficult to pick the aliens out of a crowd, especially when their tongues were loosened with alcohol.

"Tringham!" A tall, bulky man called out as soon as the blonde stepped through the door. He didn't even have to bother pushing through the crowded bar as the people in his way quickly made a point to get out of it.

"Hey, Rost," Ed greeted, forcing a cheerful smile and trying not to flinch away as a muscular arm wrapped around his waist.

"I had almost given up hope. Thought that you might stand me up."

The younger man allowed himself to be steered towards the bar, telling himself that it was essential to the mission that he keep up this appearance. As far as Grigori Rost was concerned, the blonde sharing drinks with him at the bar was a young student, Russell Tringham, looking into attending Briggs University. He had planned on coming up here from his home in the West with a few of his friends, but they'd all backed out at the last second. Still, Russell was _very_ dedicated to his studies and so he'd taken the trip by himself. When he heard this, Rost took it upon himself to keep the young man company while he was in town.

For his part, Grigori Rost was supposed to be native to another northern town, a bit to the east of Grenzeberg. He claimed to have been a miner, but Ed was well-trained in these sorts of things and, under his careful attention to detail, Rost just _reeked _of military service; short cropped haircut, toned muscles reminiscent of basic training, a voice that demanded attention and respect even when he wasn't barking orders, and stick-straight posture that _any _commanding officer would be proud of. His accent was significantly better than some of the other Drachmans hiding out in town, but he still couldn't quite hide the fact that he was rather unfamiliar with the Amestrian speech patterns. It was enough, Ed decided, and, the second he'd seen that Rost might be interested, he'd latched onto the man, putting on his best Innocent Student face and shyly flirting with him every chance he got.

It worked; very well. Too well, if you asked Ed, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like his own discomfort stop him from completing a mission. He never had. All he needed to do was get some information, and most likely that wouldn't require going very much further than maybe a date or two. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even have to go any further than that; which was good, because the idea of kissing the man was just about enough to make his stomach turn.

And that was why he barely controlled a wince when Rost turned to him after about a half hour and leaned in close to the young man, suggesting practically in his ear to be heard above the noise of the bar, "Let's get out of here."

The shiver that ran down the blonde's spine was easily mistakable as caused by anticipation, and Ed turned to the older man, flashed him a sheepish smile and nodded. That arm was around his waist again, and it took quite a bit of will power not to pull away. He didn't like where this was going, not one bit; he'd known he was playing with fire when he first started flirting with the man but he hadn't anticipated that he'd become this interested this fast. Perhaps he'd just been underestimating his own acting skills, but it was really past time to worry about that. Instead, Ed put his mind to the task of keeping the situation from getting out of hand and still finding out the information he needed.

As they continued further into town (and subsequently further away from the blonde's inn), Rost continued flirting with the young man at his side, and Ed continued giggling and ducking his head as any shy innocent student being seduced by an attractive older man might. Well, he assumed the man was attractive to _someone _anyway, but despite the thick mahogany hair and cool blue eyes; despite the confident smile and seductive demeanor, Ed just couldn't bring himself to find anything to be attracted to. Besides, he was just part of the mission, and despite his numerous lovers, the young man never got involved with a target.

It took him by surprise when Ed found himself quite suddenly pressed to the wall of a building, Rost's hand pressed to the wall beside his head and the other making its way slowly down his side. The mere proximity of the older man's face made it quite clear what it was he wanted and the fact that he was using his own body to pin Ed to the wall made it quite clear that they weren't going anywhere until he got it. The blonde tried to keep the sick and nervous expression off his face and he wished to every god he'd never believed in that he'd been paying more attention to the conversation. Luckily, it seemed that Rost wasn't the type to just take what he wanted without permission and he eased up on the blonde, lifting his hand to brush the backs of his fingers down the side of the young man's face and his own expression turning to one of slight concern.

Golden eyes darted to the side when the blonde heard the sound of footsteps approaching and he saw, as his expression turned to blatant fear, that Roy and Alphonse had finally managed to track him down.

_Shit…!_

The next moment, Ed had reached up, grabbing Rost's collar and tugging him down until their lips met. He didn't need them, he was fine without them, he could take care of himself and go on with his life and forget them completely. That was what he was trying to get across by the display, but how could he possibly hope to prove it to either man when he couldn't even convince _himself _of it?

"Brother…?"

Alphonse's voice was like a stab right through his older brother's chest; the concern and hurt in the younger Elric's tone making him nearly choke. But it wasn't until Roy's voice traveled over to them that the kiss was broken, and not by the blonde.

"Come, Alphonse; obviously Edward wishes to be left alone tonight."

If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd obviously recognized these people, Rost probably wouldn't have made the connection. However, they were the only four people out on the street so late, and _his _name most certainly wasn't Edward.

"Russell," he asked, his calm tone completely put off by the suddenly suspicious glint in his eyes, "Who are those people?"

Ed forced himself not to look in the lovers' direction again, but the fact that the sound of footsteps hadn't faded though he couldn't hear them anymore told him that both men were still there. "I don't know," he answered, knowing very well Rost was unlikely to believe that.

And he was absolutely right. Rost was backing away from him, _glaring _at him and darting equally venomous glances at the two men staring at them. "Why did they call you 'Edward,' Russell? Just who are you?" The look in his eyes was reminiscent of an injured animal being backed into a corner by a possible predator, and Ed couldn't stop himself from turning to glare at the other two men as well. From the looks on their faces he could tell that they hadn't meant to blow his cover, but that didn't make him any less furious.

"Just calm down, Grigori," the blonde sighed, straightening himself and taking a couple of hesitant steps towards the man. "I'm just looking for some information."

Probably not the best thing to say.

Rost bristled, drawing himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate the younger and smaller man. However, Ed had gone up against more intimidating men than the Drachman, and he wasn't about to be scared away.

"What information? I do not know anything, so there is no reason for you to look to me for it."

"That's not true," the blonde countered, "And you know it as well as I do."

"Who are you!" Rost shouted, the agitated look in his eyes speaking volumes of just how right the younger man was. "What do you want with me!"

The blonde turned briefly to regard his brother and former Colonel, pleased to see that Roy had stepped a bit forward, trying to block his lover from the Drachman, dark gaze focused on the larger man while Alphonse stared at his older brother with frightened and apologetic bronzed eyes.

"My name is Edward Elric," he answered finally, turning back to Rost, any and all traces of the shy university student gone leaving only, "The FullMetal Alchemist. We've been getting reports back in Central about supposed refugees from Drachma sneaking into the country. It wouldn't be a problem except some of them are getting rowdy, and we don't really appreciate our citizens getting terrorized by people who technically don't even belong here."

The sound of vague surprise off to his right told the young man that the problem had been kept such a secret that not even Mustang had known. Though, in his defense, his network of spies had significantly dwindled since he gave up his rank. But that wasn't what concerned the blonde at the moment; the more pressing matter was the twitch of a large hand towards Rost's back.

Ed's only warning was the larger man shouting something in Drachman; after that everything seemed to blur together. There was another shout, somewhere off to his side, and footsteps. But one of them was awfully loud and Ed remembered lifting his right hand as if to shield him from something, but his attention was pulled to his brother as he saw him running over. He looked scared, and Ed remembered feeling scared, especially when Alphonse _stopped _right in front of the elder brother, his eyes wide and quite suddenly unfocused. There was another shout and more footsteps, more sounds that Ed couldn't really place, all of his attention focused solely on the quivering form of his little brother in his arms. They were on the ground now, Alphonse clutching his own shoulder, his face pale and sweating and his eyes screwed shut in pain. And all Ed could do was stare at him, holding him at arm's length and unsure of what was even going on.

"Alphonse?"

Both blondes looked up at the question, the darker's filled with pain but still managing a smile and the lighter's just staring in wide-eyed shock. Roy winced at the blank and utterly vulnerable look in the older brother's eyes and merely nodded when a small voice drifted passed the young man's lips, "He's hurt…"


	3. Chapter 3: Reconstruction

**For Summary, Rating, Warnings, Disclaimer, and Notes, please see Chapter One.**

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**Chapter Three: Reconstruction**

The trip to the hospital was slow-going until the four men finally made their way to a busy enough street that they could hail a taxi, and the way Edward clung to his little brother seemed as much for his own sake as for Alphonse's. It took a hell of a fight from the nurses and orderlies to pry the elder brother away from his sibling, but eventually Roy had been able to tug Ed into the waiting room as Alphonse was taken into the operating room to remove the bullet from his shoulder, and Grigori Rost was taken to the emergency room and, afterward, the burn ward.

Both men were quiet as they sat and waited for news, _any _news on how the younger Elric was doing. Logically, Roy knew that a shot to the shoulder wasn't quite the life-threatening wound it could have been if the bullet had hit anywhere else, but that didn't ease his anxiety at all.

Movement beside him pulled the older man's attention away from his lover's suffering, however, and he saw that Ed seemed to finally be coming out of his state of shock. He knew it was a good thing, but he didn't like the way the younger man was suddenly shivering, golden eyes finally focusing but on something Roy couldn't see; though he could take a good guess as to what it was.

"Edward…?" he whispered, hesitantly reaching out his hand to settle on the younger man's knee.

"He… He shot him…" They were the first words he'd spoken since Roy had lifted the brothers off of the ground. "Al…almost died…" It was the first time Roy had heard the blonde refer to his brother as anything but "Alphonse" since he'd come back from the dead a year ago.

The older man quite suddenly found his former subordinate curled up practically in his lap, and Roy didn't care how or why as he wrapped his arms tightly around the shaking form, rocking faintly in an innate action designed purely for comfort. He didn't question when two arms closed around his neck. He didn't question when a warm face was pressed to his shoulder. And he didn't question when the blonde's breath began hitching and a faint puddle began to seep through his shirt.

* * *

Edward was distinctly calmer when the news finally came that Alphonse was out of surgery and in stable condition. Of course that didn't stop either man from leaping to their feet when the doctor headed towards them, and Roy couldn't help but smirk with pride and badly-veiled affection when the younger man made a scene when the doctor tried to keep Roy from visiting Alphonse because he wasn't family. The man had been the closest thing the brothers had had to family outside of Rizenbul since they were children and, as far as Ed was concerned, that was good enough. Roy tried not to stare at the blush on the younger man's cheeks as the doctor finally led them both to Alphonse's room. 

"He's still a bit groggy from the medications," the doctor explained quietly, holding the door open for the men, "So he probably won't wake up for some time." The man looked exceedingly upset that he'd been forced to allow this non-family member into the room, but with the vicious scowl Ed tossed him as he caught the dirty look he'd been focusing on Roy, he decided it would be best not to saying anything. Roy's grin couldn't have been more smug.

It didn't take long, however, for either man's expression to turn concerned as they took in the sight of the pale, bandaged, and altogether fragile-looking blonde currently all but comatose in the hospital bed before them. Ed swallowed hard and twitched towards the bed, looking very much like he wanted to crawl into it with his brother and just hold him until he was healthy again, but was afraid of…something. Roy couldn't say for certain what it was, but when he slipped an arm around the blonde's waist and gently guided him over towards the two chairs set up beside Alphonse's bed, Edward didn't try to pull away.

They settled into the uncomfortable wooden chairs, Roy leaving the one closest to the head of the bed to Edward who sat in it almost reluctantly, and a long silence followed. It wasn't quite comfortable, but more familiar and yet concerned and unignorably tense. The point of interest, however, Roy noted, was that the tenseness wasn't entirely being caused by Alphonse's well-being; and it was this that finally pushed the older man to break the silence that had stretched for what seemed like days, but had probably only been a few hours.

"Why did you leave?"

Edward blinked up, as if surprised by the sound in the silent hospital room, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he'd been expecting this question for far longer than just the past few hours. "I told you," he murmured, keeping his voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake his sleeping brother, "I had an assignment; Mitchell wanted me on it--"

"That isn't what I'm referring to, Edward," the older man interrupted, knowing very well from the way that the elder Elric just stared at his brother's hand that he knew that, "Though we will discuss later you're lying." That brought Edward's eyes up to Roy's, though he couldn't have been _that _surprised that his former commanding officer had known. But the older man said nothing, merely meeting that gaze unwaveringly as he repeated his question, "Why did you leave?"

The younger man's shoulders shook with the tension spiking through him; it had been a year since the event, and yet it still left Edward feeling angry, and resentful, and guilty, and jealous, and sick, and just _raw_. By the age of twelve, he'd cultivated a cocky smirk that could mask most of his doubts and uncertainties, but in those moments of overwhelming emotion, not even his best efforts had been able to cover his traitorous expressions. That night, he didn't even try and Roy was left nearly breathless for the utter openness of the young man's face and the self-hatred etched across his features that, he was sad to say, he wasn't exactly a stranger to; the blonde had always had an over-active guilt complex.

When the silence stretched on for a few more minutes, Roy began to think that Ed wasn't going to even attempt an answer. But when he took a breath to speak again he heard the blonde's voice, soft and hoarse as if the emotions he was feeling were too much of a strain on him and the older man saddened as he recognized the tone as something he hadn't heard since he watched the same FullMetal Alchemist come to realize his own mortality at the age of twelve.

"I…had to…"

There was another long stretch of silence, and once again Roy was uncertain if Ed would continue, but he could see the blonde working through his thoughts; could tell that, if he _didn't _continue, then it was likely that he just couldn't find a way to explain.

"There isn't a single thing I wouldn't do for Alphonse," he continued finally in that same soft voice, "Just so long as I know he's happy. It doesn't matter what happens to me in the end, just as long as he's able to live the life he's deserved all along. It frustrates him to no end, even… Even when we were kids, or when we were searching for the Stone. He wouldn't yell or lash out or anything, but every time I even hinted that I didn't care if I ever got my arm and leg back, just as long as he got his body back… He'd get that exasperated…_look_." He paused and a small fond smile turned up his lips just faintly enough that, if he hadn't been watching the young man so intently, Roy might have missed it entirely. "I guess I sometimes forgot that he was just as dedicated to me as I was to him, and I can't imagine what it's been like for you. He must be driving you insane for you to track me down after all this time.

"It doesn't matter though," the blonde continued, and Roy blinked as that smile was gone in a heartbeat, "It was for his own good -- for _all _of our own goods. And I'd really appreciate it if you would--"

"You selfish little brat."

Ed blinked up at the older man as he was cut off, gold eyes wide in honest surprise as Roy all but scowled at him.

"You were always rather selfless when it came to your brother, but you seem to have lost the distinction between his happiness and your _own _desires." Roy's voice was hard and unbending; the tone left over from his years as the Flame Alchemist, and it sent a shiver down his former subordinate's spine. "In case you hadn't noticed in the fifteen years you spent together, Alphonse loves you. I know it may come as something of a shock, but he does. You're his brother, Edward, his only living relative; for you to, by all accounts, come back from the dead and then disappear without a word as to why…" Roy had to actually reign in his anger, taking a deep breath before he continued somewhat more calmly. "I can't really tell you how strongly that effected him, and not simply because it isn't my place. He's picked up a few bad habits from _you_ in that respect."

"Like you're one to talk."

The retort rather took the older man off-guard, and he just blinked at Edward for a few moments. The blonde's eyes still hadn't left the motionless hand of his little brother, but he was glaring now.

"I beg your pardon?" Roy finally replied, his voice smooth and yet all-the-more dangerous for it.

"That's real slick, Mustang," the blonde spat, "Blaming _me _as the only reason why he would _possibly _keep something from you."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure wh--"

"You were _always _keeping things from us! Don't even try to deny it, Mustang. I'm not twelve-years-old anymore; I had eyes back then too, but I couldn't do anything about it. You were a manipulative and secretive bastard and worked on a need-to-know basis; the only problem with your 'system' was that, if anyone other than _you _needed to know, it wasn't until _after _the fact. So don't you dare talk to me about keeping things from people."

Roy…was left rather speechless at that. He thought about arguing that he'd had his reasons, perfectly good reasons, if you asked _him_, why he didn't reveal too much to others; but then he realized that, knowing Ed, he probably had just as good reasons, and _that _kept his mouth shut.

Another silence followed, thick with memories and what-ifs; both men lost in their own thoughts, trying to remember a time when they hadn't _had _to hide things from the people they cared about, and it didn't come easily for either of them. But now… Well, as far as Roy was concerned, there was no reason for them to keep things from one another anymore, though, if the fact that he'd avoided going anywhere _near _either Roy or Alphonse for the past year was any indication, Ed wasn't of like mind.

"You never answered my question…"

The tension in the younger man's shoulders returned with an almost audible snap a second before Ed was out of his seat and heading for the door. Roy frowned and, though he wasn't quite as quick as he used to be, not with the significantly-reduced depth-perception, he still managed to make it to the door before Ed, blocking off his exit and staring down that fierce glare steadily.

It was a stalemate, neither man backing down from his position, though neither made any move to try and overpower the other either.

"Get out of my way," Ed growled finally, hands clenching at his sides.

"I can't do that, Edward."

"Why the hell not!"

Dark eyes quickly flicked over to the bed where Alphonse lay, making sure he hadn't been awakened before turning coldly back to Edward. The younger man hadn't looked, but the relief was clear in his eyes that he hadn't accidentally woken his little brother. "He is your brother, Edward. And he's just been _shot_. If you would leave the very person you gave your life for when he wants you with him the most then I have _clearly _overestimated his importance to you."

That had quite clearly stung, but Roy didn't even _think _to take it back. He'd never minced words with the blonde, not with something like _this_. And he'd be damned if he was going to allow Alphonse to suffer anymore either.

"You do not have any obligation to tell me," Roy said, his voice softening just faintly, "I suppose, with our history, I have no right to really demand it of you either. However." There wasn't even a slight note of hesitation as the older man slipped off his gloves, tucked them back into his pocket, and lifted his hand to cup the side of the blonde's face. "I don't think I need to explain to you why Alphonse deserves to know, and why you have no right to keep it from him. At least tell _him_ the truth, Edward."

Confusion was the main emotion roiling through those wide golden eyes; confusion and fear and something akin to desperation. Edward obviously did _not_ want to do this; but he also knew that he _had_ to do this. He inclined his head just faintly, lowering his eyes to…well, to something other than _Roy's_ and, before he turned to leave, the older man pressed a gentle kiss to his former subordinate's forehead.

"Where are you going…?"

He was rather relieved that the question wasn't more along the lines of, "Why did you do that?" But the fact that Ed _hadn't _asked was message enough: He knew why, even if he wasn't aware of it, and some part of him recognized the fact that neither one of them was quite ready to hear the answer aloud.

"To go track down some coffee."

Silence.

"Bring me back a cup…?"

This time, he did hesitate, turning back over his shoulder to regard the blonde. Then, with a small, warm smile and a nod, Roy was gone, leaving Edward alone with his sleeping brother. He shuffled back to the uncomfortable wooden chair and hunkered in for a long wait. But after only about two minutes, his left hand lifted to the bed and, as one immerging themselves in water just a bit too hot, took Alphonse's hand and held it.

* * *

The younger Elric brother awoke like one dragging themselves out of a particularly muddy swamp and the first thing he was aware of was the fact that he was alone in bed. Well, that wasn't entirely out of the ordinary (Roy had always been an early riser), but then he also realized that he wasn't in their bed at home in Central. The dull throb in his left shoulder managed to remind him, after a few moments of puzzling, just _why _he wasn't in his bed. The muzzy state of his brain was the promise of medication that the throb would stay as such until it wore off. 

As he tiredly tried to move his limbs, making sure everything was attached the way it should be (with the exception of his shoulder, of course) he felt the firm, warm weight of a hand in his own and, when he looked down to see who it belonged to, he couldn't help what would have been a bright smile had his mind not been fuzzy with medication.

Edward was dozing, his head resting lightly on the curve of his arm on the edge of the hospital bed, practically bent in half in a position Alphonse _knew _the older boy would be regretting once he woke up again. As much as he felt a little guilty about waking his brother up, the younger blonde couldn't, in good conscience, leave him to sleep like that, knowing from past experience just how badly the older man would ache.

"Brother," he whispered, gently squeezing the hand in his own.

The older blonde stirred just slightly, his face scrunching briefly as he was pulled from his light nap before his eyes flickered open. Alphonse's smile managed to widen a bit and he squeezed his older brother's hand more tightly. "How long have I been sleeping?" the younger man asked, sounding very much as if he were still asleep.

Edward blinked a few times, seemingly trying to make sense of the question before he raised his head to look around for a clock. His progress was impeded by a predicted snap as his spine set back into place with just the faintest of winces from the older blonde. The next moment, however, he raised his right hand to work the kinks from his neck while he searched the small private room for some sort of clue as to the time. Through the curtains there was a faint light misting into the room, telling the brother's that morning was coming on. The clock sitting above the doorway gave them a better idea as to the specific time, however.

"Well," Ed murmured with a bit of a grunt and another satisfying snap as he twisted his neck, "You got out of surgery about five hours ago…" Those golden eyes that had once been so filled with light and a fire that not even death had been able to put out but were now almost heartbreakingly dull and lifeless, darkened as the older man remembered just why his little brother had been in surgery in the first place. "How are you feeling?" he practically whispered, his hand gripping Alphonse's a bit more tightly.

"Mmm, a little sore," the younger blonde mumbled thoughtfully, rolling his shoulder a bit again. "I'm sure it'll probably be worse once the medication wears off, but for now it's not much more than a muscle strain."

"That's good," the elder responded quietly.

"Where's Roy…?"

Ed looked up at his brother before turning back to the clock. "He went to find some coffee about an hour ago… He probably just got lost or something," he answered, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern, though both brothers knew very well why Roy wasn't there.

Light brown eyes regarded the older blonde for a few long moments as Alphonse mentally thanked his lover for leaving them alone. The older man had been just as concerned about Edward as Al had been, and Alphonse knew that he wanted an explanation just as much as the blonde did. However Roy was also constantly making allowances for the fact that the two younger men were brothers; no matter how badly he wanted the answers, Alphonse deserved them first and foremost. But now that he had Ed's undivided attention for the first time in a year, the younger man was unsure how to go about asking the questions he so desperately wanted answered. It seemed he wasn't meant to ponder this for very long, however, as a small voice spoke up from beside the bed and, after a muzzled moment trying to work out the quiet words in his head, Alphonse could do nothing but watch his brother.

"I'm sorry," Ed whispered, his hand squeezing the younger blonde's just a bit desperately, "I never meant to hurt you, you know that Alphonse, right?" It didn't take more than a nod to urge Edward on. "I thought… I thought that it was the best thing to do but…you just ended up hurt again…"

"Brother, that wasn't your fault," the younger blonde objected as forcefully as he could manage.

"You wouldn't have even been out there in the first place if you hadn't been looking for me."

"But it's not as if you were holding the gun."

"And it's not like I did anything to protect you!"

Alphonse blinked at his brother, the statement so incredibly ridiculous that he had to think a moment to make sure that that was actually what the older blonde had said. "Because _I _was protecting _you_," he murmured finally trying to keep calm, but he knew all-too-well that, if he could find a way, Edward would make out whatever had gone wrong to be his fault and it was hard to keep patient with him; especially in these instances when even _Ed _could tell, deep down, that he was just fishing for a way to blame himself. "Brother, remember what you told me about when you first started as a State Alchemist? You helped save Winry from that murderer but nearly died yourself. You told me that you realized that we're not gods and we're not devils; we're just human beings. What happened that you suddenly don't believe that anymore?"

The sharpness in his brother's tone was enough to turn Ed's gaze and his attention back up to the younger man, and it did nothing for his confusion when Al just shook his head exasperatedly. "You really are ridiculous sometimes, Brother," the blonde mourned before holding Edward's gaze resolutely. "You aren't a god, Brother; and you aren't a devil, you're just human, like the rest of us. No matter what way you look at the situation, this isn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's my own; you're plenty capable of defending yourself against a bullet and you've lived through a lot worse than just getting shot besides. But it was instinct to try and protect you; if I hadn't then most likely we wouldn't even be here in the hospital."

Edward shook his head and he took a breath as if he was about to deny the statement, but Alphonse cut him off before he was able to even think about what he wanted to say, "Brother, stop it! I'm not saying that you're absolutely innocent, but not everything that goes wrong is your fault! You're no more or less guilty than me or Roy and the more you deny the more we're going to beat it into that thick skull of yours, so you'd just be better off just accepting it and moving on."

That managed to pull a strangled chuckle from the older blonde and he just nodded and gave his little brother's hand a squeeze. It wouldn't be quite that easy, but Ed still felt relieved by the younger man's words: He really did forgive him.

Alphonse didn't allow his brother to dwell too long on that, however; as soon as he realized that Ed would at least _try _and take his words to heart, he immediately moved on to the _other _subject that had yet to be addressed. "Brother, tell me why you left…?"

The change in the atmosphere of the room was almost palpable as Edward's relief turned into dread. He'd hoped that he'd never have to have this conversation, though he'd known that he wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. Though he supposed that he should be thankful that, with the private room and the early hour, they could have this conversation without any interruptions.

"I couldn't stay," the blonde murmured after a few long minutes trying to think out what he was going to say, "You and Mustang… You were happy together and…I couldn't interfere with that."

Alphonse fought down a scowl; his brother really _was _an idiot. He wanted to scream at Ed, to shake him until he got it through his head that his happiness wouldn't be put into jeopardy just because his older brother was around. But he could see the older man still working through his thoughts, so Alphonse saved his tirade for later on.

"Ever since I got back," Ed continued, "Everything's been…so _confusing_. It was like I hadn't come back at all, just to a completely different world from this one and the one beyond The Gate. I know I should have been expecting it, but I was still taken off-guard by just how _much _everything changed. I mean, two years had gone by, so I shouldn't have expected everything to stay the same; but still… To come back and… You two…"

"Brother…" Alphonse suddenly realized just where this was going, though he'd speculated quite a bit over the past year. Edward didn't give him the chance to say anything, though.

"It was selfish; _I _was selfish. So I took myself out of the situation before I possibly did something that would hurt you…"

If the younger blonde hadn't been bogged down by pain and medication, he would have been across the bed and holding his brother. Either that or smacking the idiot for thinking it would hurt him less to have his only living relative avoid him for an entire year.

"What could have been so bad," the younger Elric asked, "That you had to run away and not even _look _at me for a whole year?"

Ed visibly winced at the accusation, ducking his head so his eyes were hidden by his bangs. He'd long ago decided that he would never tell his brother his reasons, but he didn't like keeping things him either…

Golden eyes flashed up to those familiar brown, so similar to their mother's that they could either bring a smile or a frown to the older blonde's face, depending on what memory chose to come forth. He couldn't keep trying to hide from the younger man, not if it just ended up like this every time; and not if Alphonse was just going to keep coming after him anyway. _Besides_, Ed thought defeatedly, _After all this, he deserves to know._

With a soft sigh, Edward squeezed his brother's hand gently and stood, flashing a somewhat-reassuring smile to calm the younger blonde's worried gaze; he wasn't going to leave, not yet. "Just remember," he murmured as he crouched down near the head of the bed, "That I love you, no matter what, and I'd never try and take away something that made you happy…"

Alphonse wasn't left any time to ponder those words as he suddenly found something warm and soft pressed to his mouth. He tried to see what it was, but it was so close and his eyes were having trouble focusing. Once he managed to muddle his way out of the fuzziness caused by the medication, Alphonse smiled against his brother's lips and lifted his hand to Edward's shoulder as he returned that light kiss.

While it lasted longer than Edward had intended, it ended sooner than Alphonse would have preferred and, when the older brother pulled away, there was no mistaking the apology in his eyes. Before Alphonse was able to even think about what he might say, Edward was leaving, only impeded for a moment when he bumped into Roy who was on his way in. The former Colonel was graced with that same apologizing gaze mixed in with an almost-desperation before the elder Elric brother had disappeared through the door and down the hallway of the hospital.

The two lovers shared a look and then Roy set the two mugs of coffee down on the spare chair as he sat in the recently vacated one by the head of the bed and listened to what had transpired while he'd been away.

* * *

Edward watched his breath dissipate in the cold air as he sighed, leaning forward on the bench just outside of the hospital and burying his face in his hands. He couldn't _believe _that he'd actually done that, and he had absolutely _no doubt _that whatever chance he'd had at rekindling his relationship with his brother was now a moot point. Not that he necessarily regretted finally letting Alphonse know; no, he'd resigned himself to the fact that the younger blonde deserved to know. But with that, Ed had also resigned himself to Alphonse agreeing with his original thought that it would be best if the older blonde didn't hang around, and he couldn't have been more surprised when the weight of a warm coat fell over his shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee was thrust under his nose. 

"It's cold. I know you're nearly indestructible, but there's no need for you to freeze."

Roy sat heavily down on the bench next to the blonde, gloved hands wrapped around his own mug and taking a long sip of what Ed assumed was coffee inside. "So," he murmured conversationally, "What did you learn from your lead?"

The blonde smirked, a half-hearted shadow of the cocky expression Roy had once known, but under the circumstances he wasn't all that surprised.

"That you had no right giving up your position as the Flame Alchemist."

Roy smirked at that, a wholly self-satisfied expression. He'd been lucky, really, that he hadn't accidentally caused any serious damage. Well, Edward's lead had been even luckier. The older man was pleasantly surprised, however, that he didn't have to prod the blonde for an answer to the actual question.

"It was just as I'd originally thought: Drachma's government's got its hands full and can't control its people anymore. The ones willing to risk the trip are making their way out before the country collapses in on itself and their all left in the ensuing chaos. Unfortunately, for us, not all of the 'refugees' are just looking for a stable government and some peace and quiet."

"Hence the conflicting reports of frightened refugees and violent soldiers," Roy concluded. The questioning look on the younger man's face as he looked up clearly wanted to know how the former Colonel knew that when it had all been classified information. The smirk on the older man's face clearly said that he hadn't lost _all _of his informants. The older man's voice grew thoughtful as he continued, "And your lead?"

"Rost isn't a troublemaker," Ed objected, a bit harshly considering the unasked question. "I've been tailing him since I got up here and I haven't once seen him involved in anything even _remotely _illegal. He was just scared; he was in the Drachman military," another of the blonde's suspicions confirmed, "And with all the people turning against the government he wanted to get out before he was hanged for principles' sake. He thought I was going to turn him into Hakuro and get him deported; that's why…"

The sentence didn't really need finishing, but Roy did anyway. "That's why he panicked and tried to shoot you, inadvertently shooting your brother instead."

Ed just nodded, staring into the opaque brown liquid in his mug. "How is he?"

"Worried about you." The older man slouched back on the bench and took another long sip from his mug. "He thought you'd run away again; luckily I confirmed from a few nurses that you were still in the hospital."

"…So I guess he told you…"

The blonde's posture hadn't changed much since Roy had first exited the hospital, however there was a distinctly more melancholy droop to the younger man's shoulders and his hands clenched now around the mug. Mustang was almost _certain _Ed would rather just hear that no, Alphonse hadn't spoken a word to him about what had transpired between the brothers; but then, he'd never been one to out-and-out lie to either Elric when it concerned their sibling. "Yes, he did." He took the ensuing silence as an indication to continue, though what exactly he was supposed to say, Roy wasn't entirely certain. "I can't exactly say it's unexpected. But then, it's not exactly a surprise either."

That managed to grab the younger man's attention, and that blonde braid whipped over Ed's shoulders as he turned to look up at the older man in…well, something between surprise and outright _shock_.

Roy just smiled that same enigmatic almost non-smile he'd been giving his former subordinate throughout the night and obliged the unasked question in those wide golden eyes. "You two have been through more over the course of fourteen years than most people experience in a lifetime. Your lives have been marked with tragedy after tragedy, some of them your own doing, some of them not, but all of them events that have profoundly impacted your lives and personalities

"Believing that you had no one else to rely on after your mother's death, it is understandable that you would gravitate towards each other. That bond only grew in intensity when you gave your arm to save Alphonse's life. You two spent four years searching and suffering together to find a way to restore yourselves and, after all of this it's impossible to imagine that that bond _hadn't _grown until it was impossible to sever, even in death."

Edward's gaze flinched away, but the older man just continued.

"I did my best with the information I had to fill in Alphonse's lost memories but it wasn't until you came back that he was finally able to get the whole story. After you disappeared again, I spoke many times to your brother about his feelings about it." The older man paused then and reached out, turning Edward's chin with a finger so their gazes met; he wanted to make sure that the blonde actually listened to what he was saying and understood it clearly. "Considering what Alphonse told me and yet he has ultimately only experienced those five years second-hand, it isn't that far of a leap to make the conclusion that you might feel the same way, having experienced those years _first_-hand."

The blonde just stared openly at his former commanding officer, not sure if he wanted to believe what the older man seemed to be insinuating. If he was wrong, then that meant that things would just go back to the way they'd been that past year, except far more awkward; if Roy was telling the truth, however, then that meant that that entire past year had been…completely _pointless_.

"Edward." The sound of his name made the younger man blink back into focus and he tried to concentrate on what Roy was saying. "I cannot claim to know much about the relationship between two brothers, however, even if I could I doubt it would do me much good in this situation. What you and Alphonse have been through is entirely unique to yourselves, as far as history can tell, and there is no one other than yourselves that can fairly judge either of you for the way you care about each other."

Mustang seemed to be able to read into exactly what Edward needed to hear and, though he'd often done it while the blonde had been working under the older man, this time seemed to be a bit above and beyond what Roy might have been able to find from his network of spies. So then how…?

"Alphonse…" Ed's voice was little more than a breath, and his brother's name seemed to fade away with the little cloud of breath that puffed from the blonde's mouth. Of _course _the younger blonde would have been suffering through the same ordeal if what Roy was saying was true! His only answer was a nod from the older man.

A quiet crackling sound caught Roy's attention and he let his gaze drop to the untouched mug in the blonde's hands, the right clenched tightly around it. In a quick movement that startled Edward, he lifted the mug from the younger man's hands and placed it, with his own, on the far side of the bench. "Stop that, Edward," he chided, "You know better than most that brooding over the past does no one any good. Forget the 'what-ifs' and concentrate on the future."

"But… I can't…"

Roy raised an eyebrow at the younger man, his expression clearly confused.

"I don't even understand why you're telling me this," Edward continued, "I couldn't… You two… You're happy together… You're _good _together, and I…" _Have no right to interfere with that._ It had been the one thought that had kept his desires in check. But in two sentences, Roy managed to banish it completely.

"Edward," the older man murmured, leaning in towards the blonde, eyes lowering lazily, "It has been three years since you've truly spoken to your younger brother, so it is understandable that you don't know this. But Alphonse and I, while we do have our differences, our similarities _far_ outweigh them."

The moment Roy saw realization dawn on the younger man's face, he closed the distance between them and captured Edward's lips with his own. The kiss was deep and thorough and confident on both ends, and it was a far cry from the hesitant questioning kiss the blonde had shared with his brother. Once Edward recovered from the initial surprise, his arms snaked up around the older man's neck, practically clinging to him as if he was afraid Roy might come to his senses and pull away at any moment.

It didn't happen, and by the time the kiss came to a mutual end, both men were rather breathless. Ed wasn't sure if that meant that both of them were quite sane, or if they both just had yet to come to their senses; either way, he wasn't sure he really cared. And with the look on Roy's face, he wasn't entirely sure _he_ cared either.

A gloved hand slipped up to the younger man's hair and brushed through it slowly, eventually coming to rest at the back of Edward's head and, both men flashing the other a faint smile, Roy used that hold to pull the blonde against him, resting his chin on the top of his head. "Are you going to come back up to the room so we can talk?"

The younger man snorted, "You have to ask?"

Roy tugged that braid teasingly before letting go and handing Edward back his mug. "I nearly forgot," he added, reaching over to a bag the blonde hadn't noticed before and tugging out a book, which he subsequently handed over to Ed. "You left this on the train; Alphonse seemed convinced that it held some significance to you and that you would want it back."

As he reached out to take the book, Edward couldn't look away from the elaborate array on the cover, the swirling lines a distinct contrast to the block letters of the title, "Alchemy." A quick flip through the pages, peppered with notes in Hohenheim Elric's sharp script, confirmed that it was, indeed, the text that Ed had accidentally left behind on the train, and his thoughts wandered from there…

_Shit…_

"Roy, what day is it?"

The older man faltered before answering. "Thursday."

"Good," Ed sighed, standing and carrying both his mug and the book back towards the hospital, "I don't have time to find him another birthday present anyway."

_-The End_


End file.
